


Another Royal Spooning

by Maiden_of_Asgard



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23833054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Asgard/pseuds/Maiden_of_Asgard
Summary: Being queen means that you have to show up to royal dinners, even when Loki's feeling under the weather. That's okay, though - you plan to snuggle him as much as possible to make up for your temporary absence.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 310
Collections: Flurries - The World of Frostbite





	Another Royal Spooning

You finish the last of your letters, sealing the wax with your ring. The ever-watching Eye of Darō - a perfect emblem for a queen. “There,” you say, placing the small stack of neatly-folded parchment into the hands of the page standing at attention by your desk. “Thank you for waiting.”

The boy’s cheeks flush from the praise, and he bows deeply. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Could you do me another favor, before you deliver those?”

“Anything at all, Your Majesty.”

Smiling, you stand and round the desk. “Let the Allfather know that my husband and I won’t be at dinner tonight.”

“Go without me,” a muffled voice calls from the couch. “Make an appearance.”

It’s poor form to argue with Loki in front of servants, so you stifle the urge to roll your eyes. “Okay,” you say. “Let whoever sets the table know that there will be one less plate tonight, then.”

The page bows again - unnecessarily, in your opinion - then hurried off to do your bidding. 

You kneel by the couch, rubbing the back of Loki’s neck. “How are you feeling, my king?” 

“Pull my hair a bit?” he asks, his face still smashed into one of the plush pillows. “I am nearly certain that my head is on the verge of exploding.”

“What do you think it is? Stress, probably?”

“And the change in climate. The damned pollen in the air, as well. I forgot how horrid it could be.”

“Why don’t you want me to stay? I don’t have to go to dinner. It’s not like I’m gonna miss getting glared at by Odin.”

“You must unsettle them all in my absence,” Loki replies. “Be my eyes and ears.”

“I’d rather hold you.”

“And I’d rather be held, dröttning, but we  _ are _ here for official business.”

“I know,” you say, petting his hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll be  _ extra _ regal, just for you.”

“I have no doubt of that.”

~

You slip into one of your fancy gowns with long, draping sleeves; it isn’t super convenient to eat in, but it really sells the whole ‘Queen of Jotunheim’ vibe. A crown seems needlessly unwieldy just for dinner, so you don’t bother, but you do make sure that you’re a little more gilded and bejeweled than you would be for your average court dinner back home in Utgard.

Being the queen has done wonders for your posture, you muse as you stroll through the open-air halls that lead from Loki’s old chambers to the grand halls where most of the gods and goddesses linger. Where you once cowered in fear of the immortals inhabiting the strange worlds you’d stumbled across that fateful day so long ago, you now walk with your head held high. Soldiers and servants nod in acknowledgment as you pass, and you grace them with winning smiles. 

Asgardians are physically imposing people, sure - but you’re a queen of giants. 

Thor is milling about in the hall speaking to several other men who look like they probably spend a great deal of time fighting, too, and he leaves them to offer you his arm when you make your grand entrance. “Your Majesty,” he says grandly.

“Your Highness,” you reply, laughing as you rest your hand in the crook of his arm. “I hope I didn’t interrupt; I promise I can find the table by myself.”

“Not at all. I’m happy for the excuse to escort you without Loki looming over our shoulders.” He winks. “Perhaps now I’ll finally hear an account of his more embarrassing attempts to win your heart? That young lord in your retinue claims that the whole thing was painfully romantic.”

The ‘young lord’ in question is doubtlessly Hross, and you crane your neck to see if you can spot him in the crowd; once he gets a few jugs of mead in him, he’s probably going to start singing ballads about the ascension of the Rightful King of Jotunheim, so it might be for the best that Loki’s skipping out on tonight’s dinner. 

“Of the two of us, I’m probably the one who did more embarrassing things during the heart-winning period. Don’t tell him that I admitted that, though.” You lean a little closer, and Thor bows his head to catch your conspiratorial whispers. “He  _ is _ a big softie, though. Don’t tell him I told you that, either.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Since Loki isn’t joining the Allfather and the courtiers and emissaries in attendance for dinner, you don’t worry about the usual seating arrangements, and you choose to sit beside Thor, instead. He’s a good conversational partner, and he provides the added bonus of being a very large, blocky shield to almost entirely obstruct your view of Odin Allfather on his left-hand side. 

You and Odin aren’t particularly close.

He hasn’t compared you to livestock or anything yet, to be fair, but you have a suspicion that’s only because you aren’t quite  _ entirely _ human any longer. Really, you get the impression that Odin can’t decide what to think of you at all. There’s absolutely distrust there, and some suspicion as to your intentions… and the feeling’s mutual. 

But he’s been decently polite, at least, and he’s made some concessions that are good for Jotunheim - and for Loki - so you smile and bow and act impressively polite, your words warm and your eyes sharp. 

The Asgardian court is noticeably tense with their giant visitors in attendance, but you’re relieved to see that at least some of the gods and goddesses seem to be loosening up a bit. Your seat at the high table provides you an excellent opportunity to people-watch, and you take careful note of those who seem tentatively comfortable chatting with your royal retinue from Jotunheim, as well as those who show their displeasure plainly on their faces. 

All information is valuable information.

There’s a visiting Vanir princess sitting not far from you at the table, and she pulls you from your reviere with effusive praise for your gown and hair. “And the band on your neck,” she says, “so delicate and simple! Are these symbols of Jotunheim?”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you say. “They are.”

“Fascinating. And what do they mean?”

You grin. “‘Loki’s woman.’”

The princess blinks. “Oh.”

You’re pretty sure Thor is using his mug to hide his laugh. 

“How are you enjoying your visit to Asgard?” you ask quickly.

“Oh, it is very exciting,” she says. “I have always wanted to see more of the Nine.”

“You should visit us in Utgard.”

“Really, Your Majesty?”

“Absolutely. Tell your dad you’ve been royally invited… just make sure you bring twice as many coats as you think you’ll need.”

She beams at you, and you really hope that she  _ does _ get permission to travel to Jotunheim, eventually; most of the Nine is still incredibly wary of Jotunheim, and of Loki, too. It would be great if people weren’t so afraid every time they ended up in a room full of Frost Giants.

You don’t stick around long after dinner, though you do linger long enough to hear Hross regaling the Vanir princess with a  _ highly _ dramatized account of Loki’s encounter with the massive wolf in the Iron Wood. When one of Thor’s friends starts singing, you decide it’s time to head to bed.

The fire is the only light in the room when you return to Loki’s chambers, and you make sure that the doors are locked before you shrug out of your gown and kick your slippers aside. “Hey, sweetheart?” you whisper. “Awake?”

Loki grunts, and he rolls onto his side as you approach the couch, blinking sleepily. “Norns, you’re beautiful,” he mumbles. “And naked.”

“Yep,” you reply, amused. You pull a few of the pins out of your hair and set them aside; you’ve made the mistake of falling asleep with random bits of ornamentation still on before, and it never makes for a pleasant sleeping experience. “Gotta enjoy the Asgardian climate while I can, after all. How do you feel?”

“Tired. A bit better. How was dinner?”

“Pretty decent. I invited one of the other visitors to come join us in Utgard sometime - the Vana.”

“You know that her father will never allow her to come to our court, darling.”

“Hey, I’m  _ very _ charming.”

You climb over him, squeezing yourself between his back and the couch, rubbing your nose in the little dip between his shoulder blades. Loki sighs in contentment as you shower his skin with gentle little kisses, wiggling so that he fits more firmly into the curve of your body. 

“We can go to our bed, if you’d prefer,” he says, though you can hear the reluctance in his voice.

Your arm wraps around his waist, and he takes your hand in his, your fingers interlacing and he holds you close. “I’m completely okay with sleeping here,” you tell him. “If it’s not too squished for you, I mean. You’re the long, lanky one.”

“Perfect for me.” 

You’re pretty sure he’s already on the verge of sleep again, and you smile and rub his stomach with your thumb, just a tiny, gentle little reminder that you’re there, and that you’re going to snuggle him until he feels better. 

He lets out another little sigh, then mutters something that ends with, “... queen.”

You smile and bestow another little kiss on his back. “Goodnight, my king.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had a request for little spoon!Loki, and I thought a little post-Frostbite fluff would be nice 💙


End file.
